


Mark of Chaos

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Series: Mercy of the Fallen [2]
Category: Red Dragon - Thomas Harris, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Spells & Enchantments, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he was right, and Will agreed, the ritual would write itself out of the tattooist's desires and thoughts. He already knew it was going to involve pain  because that was the nature of this sort of ritual. Sacrifice and payment made in some form or another. Will reached into his fridge, and pulled out a Corona, taking a swig as soon as he uncapped it. It didn't seem to actually go down after the long drink. "What do you think I can do for you, then."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mark of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Set before Mercy of the Fallen.

John looked at the scrap of paper with the address on it. He'd kept the evidence of the favour owed safe and sound, even if he hadn't intended to use it. At the time it had seemed a little like the normal hauling some law enforcement guy's ass out of the fire when he'd gotten in too deep with a shapeshifter. But he'd felt something, seen something in the other man with his Other sight. He had a sleeping power and John Sheppard never turned down allies, for all that he worked alone.

He'd had a spectacular couple of years pissing people and entities off and just needed more protection. 

It was a gamble, but there weren't many old powers that he could tap into and not end up in a power struggle. There weren't many old powers in the world who didn't want to fight John Sheppard to get the badge on their shoulder for doing him in. And he needed an old power for what he was considering.

None of the angelic or demonic forces was going to give him a weapon that could help destroy them, not even if he had them over a barrel. Will had something wild. His Othersight didn't recognise it, as it was all fractured rainbow eyes. He should have the power though to embed the Gates into his body. No point just tattooing it on the skin - he'd lost a few to skin flailing bastards until he realised he needed the ritual ink that made the body remember the mark no matter what.

He knocked on the door, hoping Will hadn't moved.

There was a quiet noise, someone limping down a set of stairs. "I told you to fuck off." He didn't even have the door open yet, but he sounded angry. There was an edged feeling in the air as he pulled the door open.

"I can if you want," John said in a drawl looking at the other man. Yeah, the power was strong, wild and snapping restlessly like a wolf around the man. "Mr Graham...Remember me? John Sheppard."

He was a sight, and John wasn't sure he'd remember him. He had butterflies over two cuts on his forehead, a neat line of stitching on his cheek. He flickered his eyes a little, looked sideways at John for a moment. Gold whirl, twisting up with rainbow colors, and then it was gone. "I remember you. Just... come in."

You didn't piss off someone with uncontrolled power unless you had to, so he said, "If this is a bad time I can... come back?" 

He needed those tattoos. He definitely needed them to survive.

"It's never a good time." He stepped aside, gesturing for John to come in. "What can I do for you, Sheppard?"

"I need to call in a favour," John said as he entered. Maybe he needed to sweeten the deal. "Though it won't be anything bad for you."

"I'm not in a position to do anyone favours right now," Will offered, voice sliding lower, a little rough. "I, uh. Yeah."

John looked at him appraisingly. "Feeling a bit edgy huh? Tough case?" He needed the favour, he needed these tattoos and he needed Will to do it.

"My wife just left me," Will murmured, closing the door behind John. "And took our son."

"Fuck." John exhaled. He knew how that went. Nancy couldn't hack it either, but that had been the hopeless optimism of youth. "That's... she couldn't deal?"

"Serial killer followed me home." Will's mouth quirked left and then quirked right, and he mostly looked sad and tense. "And she couldn't deal. It was wrong of me to expect it of her."

"Shit man," John exhaled. "Relationships don't work out well in our world. More than just a serial killer or...?"

"Run of the mill." Will rubbed at his shoulder absently. His eyes kept moving, darting, and there was a faint whirl of color again before they settled on serene sharp blue again. "Perfectly human. What do you want?"

"Okay look, " John hesitated a little. "You've got power, and I need someone with power to mark me with ritual symbols. I'm pretty much public enemy number one with both sides right now and these will give me an edge. It's the sort of thing that...might allow you to blow off steam a little as well."

"I don't have power," Will murmured, wandering down the narrow hallway, towards a small kitchen.

"Trust me, you do. It doesn't know what to do with itself, but you've got it," John said following him down. "It's a wild power, I've not met it before but that's all to the good."

If he was right, and Will agreed, the ritual would write itself out of the tattooist's desires and thoughts. He already knew it was going to involve pain because that was the nature of this sort of ritual. Sacrifice and payment made in some form or another. Will reached into his fridge, and pulled out a Corona, taking a swig as soon as he uncapped it. It didn't seem to actually go down after the long drink. "What do you think I can do for you, then."

That was a start. He pulled out the two bottles. It had taken him a long time to prepare the two potions. "This is ritual ink and this is a ritual potion. I've done the difficult part. You and I drink half each, and.. well, the power in the preparation calls a ritual forth to enable you to mark me. It is likely to involves... desires." He really hoped he hadn't read the man wrong.

He looked askance at John, and took another swig of his beer. "What do you want to end up marked in?"

He pulled out the diagram. "This...one half on each arm so they can be drawn together to make a whole."

Graham looked thoughtful, and reached out to touch the diagram, tracing it with his fingers. "What will you do with it?"

"Some texts call it a symbol connected with the Speculum veritas - the mirror of truth. I can force power through it and it creates a binding that forces any intangible entity into a corporeal form. Or strips away concealing enchantments. Basically it tells me who the bad guys are and gives me a means to kick their ass."

Will closed his eyes for a moment, eyes moving in a rem sort of motion that spoke more of exhaustion than him doing anything in particular. "Do you know what you look like to me?"

"No, but I'm willing to bet you don't know what you look like to me either," he said.

"I'm afraid to ask," Will smiled. "Most otherkind look at me and walk the other way. But you helped me. And you think I'll help you."

"I'm an optimist," John said smirking a little. "So, I'm curious what do you see?"

He lifted a hand, touched fingers at the edge of John's jaw. "You have an odd grace to you, and yet hell taint just dances at your edges. It's an interesting aura. And power."

"Not sure about the grace but hell keeps trying to get a grip on me." There was a little feeling lingering, a tingle from the touch. "You have a whirl of power around you, like those nights where the wind is wild, and clouds whip past the moon and you feel invincible. It's all like seeing light fractured through a prism. It's pretty... cool." Intoxicating for someone sensitive, definitely.

And fascinating, and possibly part of why he was willing to trust Graham. He broke contact, and took another swig of his drink. "Fuck it. I'll do it."

"You sure?" John said. "I should say whatever the ritual calls up, I consent to automatically."

"That could be very bad for you," Will pointed out, tilting his hip a little and leaning against the counter. "Beer first?"

"Might as well," he said. "Here, this is the information on the ritual, you might want to look it over. I don't think it's been done successfully for centuries."

"As ready as I'm going to be." He set the beer down on the counter, still full and sweating moisture. Will was tracking something with his eyes, fingers resting on the tabletop. "If you can do the spellwork, I think I have the power for it."

John passed him the ink, and then opened the potion. "I have to activate it and drink my half first, then you." 

John muttered the required incantation and felt the whispering sizzle of magic as the power ignited and started to grow. He took the three mouthfuls and could feel it burning and growing inside him. He passed the bottle to Will and intoned the part that designated him as the marker.

Will raised it to his lips, closed his eyes, and drank -- swallowing quickly until it was gone, and set it down on the table. "Ugh, there has to be a reason why this never tastes good."

"To make sure you're really serious about doing it," John said. "Give it a moment... if the instructions are to be believed, images will insistently rise in your mind of what you want and need to do." And he was twitching with anticipation, not just on a magical level.

"If it even works on me." Will turned his palm over, back of his hand resting against the countertop. "I think we can take care of it all here."

"I'm a supplicant right now, I am bound by your instructions," John said and smiled. "You like that don't you?"

"Stand up, then, and take your shirt off." He was watching not just that John did it, but how he did it, and there was something he was looking for in John's movements.

John stood, carefully taking off the shirt trying to sense what would get a reaction. Mmm, he seemed to like the look of the scars and when he looked down and then peered up at him.

"Give me your belt." He started to take his own off as well, but he never took his eyes off of John.

The belt... He slipped it off and passed it over. "Well this is promising," he murmured.

"I like your smart mouth." Will was easing into it, it sounded like, starting to relax a little. "Bend over the table. Don't knock over your precious ink."

He did so, smirking a little at Will as he did so. "My smart mouth gets me into trouble more often than not."

"I imagine it does. But you like that. Being untroubled. There are consequences for revealing the reality of things, I'd think."

"Usually having to deal with the reality of things," John said waiting Will's next move. "Angels and demons get really pissed when they can't skulk around and take potshots from the ether."

"And skinwalkers. And... everything else out there," Will murmured, circling around behind him. "But you'll still never see what I see every day." John wasn't expecting the crack of belt against his ass, over his pants, hard and unyielding.

He was surprised into a yelp, but that was fine. It burned with the shock of impact and...yep, predictable as always his cock leapt to attention.

Usually, he was naked by the time anyone went at him with a belt, but it wasn't a problem that he was dressed either, not even when Will leaned across his back, and pressed fingers against John's wrists, pulling them closer while Will's own belt entwined itself around them like cuffs.

"I should have brought some gear," John smirked. "You know, I'm usually naked before we get to the whipping."

"You don't need gear with me." Will pressed a kiss to the back of John's neck, lingering, not moving, and then there was a sudden feeling of fullness, of being stretched out, like a dick had just appeared in his ass. Never mind that he had pants on. "Cigarettes, booze, anything I want I just. Happen to have."

He groaned a little. It seemed the ritual was waking up some of Will's power at that. "Convenient..." he managed. "Holy crap, that's...big."

"Think of it as an opening salvo." Will leaned back, trailing fingers along John's back. "Are there any other marks you want done?"

"Oh so, marking me turns you on?" John said looking over his shoulder. "See where the mood takes you. If the wild magic wants to mark me, then I am happy to take it."

Especially if Will wanted to give it to him. He still felt full inside.

"Sometimes I wonder if you, if all of this, is a hallucination too." He hooked his thumbs in John's jeans, started to haul them down. The waistband pulled over his ass, tugged briefly at the plug or dildo, or whatever it was and made him ache.

"It's feeling pretty real to me," John replied wriggling a little. "Just go with it. At least it should be an enjoyable hallucination right?" And he didn't want him to stop.

"It's all fun and games until you realise you've painted the fireplace blue and you can't find the paint can." He leaned in, bit gently at John's ass cheek, as he worked John's jeans past his knees. "Lift your feet."

John did so, carefully, balancing himself. It was definitely going to go the way of a sex ritual and that was a good thing as far as he was concerned. Way better than the pain rituals or the blood rituals that were standard. He'd had a feeling about Will, wife run off or not. Will pulled John's shoes off, and then eased his jeans all the way off. 

Considering he went commando that left him pretty much naked, and still bent over the table. "Mmm... This is more like it," he murmured.

He felt Will's hand hit his ass, more of a playful slap than a beating, and then fingers pulling at the thing in his ass. "Huh, haven't seen that in a while. Hold on..."

"I can tell you I haven't had it in my ass that long," John pointed out. He wondered what power could materialise objects like that. Could it be anything?

Will set the vibrator down on the table, and then after a moment it turned into a tube of KY jelly. The man behind him laughed, and leaned up again to kiss the back of John's neck. Okay, lube was always good, and sometimes conspicuous by its absence in a sex ritual. Transformation without any form of incantation. Maybe Will had Fey blood or something like that.

Feys were wild magic, chaos magic, and that was something that he could use against both heaven and hell, and... And that train of thought went away entirely, slid out of his mind when the man reached between them to stroke and pull at John's cock.

"Oh fuck, that's good, "John moaned leaning into the table to brace himself. "It's been a while."

"I know the feeling." His hands kept moving, stroking John harder again. He leaned over again, pulling at the ink bottle, humming a little.

"Mmm, this is...surprisingly nice," John said. "Considering you said you were worried about your desires."

"Still am." He dipped his pinky finger into the ink vial, and contemplated, holding still for a moment. "Bend your arms back over your head, thumbs between your shoulders."

"Okay," he said, folding his arms back to the best of his ability. "There?"

"Good." He lifted his finger from the ink, and John couldn't see what he was doing. He just had to trust, first feeling the wetness, and then a bone sharp pain.

He gritted his teeth and made a strangled noise of pain. "Fuck!" It was like a stabbing pain pushing deep.

Will gave a slow shivery breath. It was barely audible behind the pain, and then he felt the pressure of dick against him. John groaned. "Yeah, fuck me.." he mumbled. Will got off on this, and hell, so did he. Bad habit but necessary for him. Hell taught him that at least.

It was just sort of how things went down there. "Beg," Will murmured, pressing still but not pushing on.

"Please fuck me," John said, his portion of the potion making that easy for him. He wanted it. "I need you to use me, do what you want to me, fuck me hard while you carve into me..." He had the measure of Will's desires. A dark submission, he craved that.

And it needed to be consenting, apparently. Willing, willingly offering himself up. Will groaned, and started a slow press into him. He was well hung from the way John felt himself stretching, but there was enough lube and then fuck, his arms were on fire again.

He gave in to the urge to yell, to acknowledge rather than protest the pain. It was something burning, a thousand burning needles pushing deep into his arms and Will pushing hard into his ass

"Looks like you're being attacked by cactii..." Will's fingers shifted, held John's arms better in place when he gave another snap of his hips.

"Oh god...do that again.." John begged. It altered the tenor of the pain into something more... pleasurable.

Distracted him from it, sliced him away from the pain pain pain and added a different flavour that made it feel better, that slid up his spine while Will hummed and started to more regularly thrust deep into him.

He was riding along with it, unable to do anything about it and that was the intoxicating part for Will, he knew that. "More," he mumbled, almost inarticulate with need. He wanted to be forced, to be used like this with the needles burrowing into his skin and Will taking his ass.

"How much..." Will exhaled, a ragged pant, reaching up to slide fingers into John's mouth as he just kept thrusting. "*More* do you want?"

"Everything," he mumbled. "Control me, force me..." He sucked on those fingers like they were a dick in his mouth because that made the pain of the tattooing transform.

It got him another groan, and the needles dug harder into his arms, a few of them dancing on his shoulders in tandem. He felt Will's forehead against his shoulder, too, separate of the needles pain, fucking him harder. "Can't..."

"Please..." It was nearly a begging whine. "Please, please you must want to..." What must it look like, dancing needles and glowing marks sinking and bonding to his arms twisted up behind him.

"Have to finish the... damn, damn..." Damn, and he stopped for a moment, breathing hard and then thrusting again. "God you look good like this."

"Feels...good. Feels..." It felt like fire etching down into his bones, like someone expertly fucking him. "Please..."

Like someone expertly fucking into his skin, and like his ass was being tattooed or the other way around. He was starting to lose himself in it, to it, to the sharp dance of needles sweeping over his body, his arms, his back.

He abandoned himself to the feeling, allowing himself to just react and writhe and shudder with all the feelings. They were both caught up in the spell, and it was going to play itself out to the end now, until the work was done, completed. He felt the snapping of the spell strings, the release of tension in the air, hit him just as his orgasm did.

It was blinding, the world unravelling around him, the ink branded not just into his skin but into body and bone. Nothing was real except the two of them moving like this and the world whiting out in that moment of climax.

The table was gone when he started to stir again, and Will was sitting on the floor beside him, a beer in hand again as he seemed to be studying the damage they'd wrought.

"Hey," John said noticing the soreness that lingered as he shifted. He looked at his fore arms, and grinned. There it was, perfect and humming with power. The Gates of the Real, the Mirror of Truth and finally something he could use.

"So, I think that's what you were looking for." It was half a question and half a statement.

"Oh yeah," John replied. He grinned. "You are a fucking genius Will," he said. Dark markings were rising up from the bone to the surface of the skin, still imprinting themselves.

"Great. I don't know what I just did, but..." He shrugged his shoulders, offering John a hand up.

"But did you enjoy it?" John said with a smirk getting up. He had enjoyed it, definitely and he was contemplating asking for more.

"Wasn't bad at all." But it was like he'd folded back in on himself. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he said looking at him as he rifled through his hair. "What's up?"

"This... Magic shit. Comes and goes. It's strange. I sometimes wonder if I'm losing my mind."

"Yeah, magic users tend to do that. I spent some quality time being treated as a nutjob too." Discretely sent away by his father who had bloody well started it. "Look, it's real... It's all real. I'm real, you're not going mad." He held up his arms. "These are real... What you did is real."

He was watching John, and took another swig of his beer. "Right. Right. And there's a tiny dragon sitting on your shoulder right now, so..."

"A tiny dragon?" John let his othersight slip and was staring suddenly into the whirling eyes of a fey-spirit with a dragon-shape. "Well hi little guy. You look nice and full...attracted by wild magic. A Fey-spirit, I reckon."

"Oh good, you can see it, too. Good." Will ran a hand back through his hair. "C'mon. You probably want a shower after that."

"Yeah.." John grinned at him. "Wanna join me?" he offered hopefully. "Try out a few more of those desires?"

It felt right to extend the offer. Will hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "Sure, if you're up to it..."

John smiled riding the euphoria of the moment, his body marked indelibly by wild magic and ink and blood. "Always." John replied feeling more than just the markings singing in his blood. "Always."


End file.
